King, Ship, and Sword

'Can't learn to win 'less ye lose a few first. And she ought to learn that Life don't always let ye win. Even if she is a girl, she musn't be so cossetted, or spoiled, she ends up a sore loser. The boys know it… have t'know it before they enter adult lives and careers.'

'You say I cosset her?' Caroline asked with one brow up.

'Not at all, Caroline!' Lewrie quickly countered, wondering how deep in trouble he was stepping. 'It's just that… damn.'

Caroline gave a rare, mischievous smile. 'It's refreshing that you show concern for her improvements, dear. 'Damned if you do, damned if you don't'?'

'Something like that,' Lewrie admitted, squirming.

'She's always been head-strong,' Caroline explained, returning to her embroidery of a new handkerchief. 'Though usually a sweet and biddable girl, well… with two older brothers to vie with before we sent them away to school, and now the only child in the house, she's developed a competitive streak… one which I've tried to scotch, as unseemly for a young lady. You may not have noticed, being at sea so long.' And for once, that did not sound like a sour accusation.

'But you think introducin' her to new games'd not go amiss?'

'Even does she pout when she loses, I think she'd adore them,' Caroline told him with another grin. 'She's playing with her father, whom she hasn't seen in years, and with both of us cautioning her to be a better sport, well…!'

'Tomorrow, let's all go for a ride together,' Lewrie suddenly suggested. 'Hang the kitchen and still-room for a day, there's your capable Mistress Calder to oversee things. That new tea shop in the village… tea and sticky buns or muffins… the dry goods store to prowl? Ride the bounds together, maybe put up a fox and have a go at 'View, Halloo'? Away from her tutor and lessons for a bit, that'd be a treat, surely.'

'That is a marvellous idea, Alan!' Caroline eagerly said. 'We will tell her at breakfast. And I must own that some time away from household drudgery will suit me right down to my toes, as well.'

'Good, then, we'll do it!' Lewrie exclaimed.

'Well,' Caroline determined, gathering up her embroidery, 'it is time for me to retire. Do not sit up too late. Goodnight, dear.'

And, wonder of wonders, she actually crossed the short space 'twixt settee and her chair to lean over and give him a brief peck on his forehead before stepping away.

'Goodnight, Caroline,' he replied, half-stunned, unsure whether he should respond in kind; she was walking to the doors and out of his reach before he could decide.

'You see, Alan… domesticity can be very pleasant,' she said as she paused in the doorway once more, with yet another of those enigmatic smiles. 'After so many years of grim war and separation, your family can be a source of joy and contentment.'

Aye, it can, Lewrie thought once she was gone; though nine parts outta ten just bovine boresome!

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Huzzah, we've letters!' Lewrie cried as he entered the house after an hour or so at the Olde Ploughman. 'Letters and newspapers.'

'Who are they from?' Caroline asked, bustling into the foyer from the kitchens, pantry, and still-room, where Spring cleaning had kept her occupied.

'Uhm… one from Sophie and Anthony Langlie,' Lewrie told her, shuffling through the pack, 'one from his parents, too. Burgess has written us… one from my father… '

'Oh, give me Burgess's!' Caroline enthused, drying her hands on her apron as they went to the many- windowed office at one end of the house, for Charlotte was practicing with her music tutor in the formal parlour. The windows were open, the drapes taken down to be beaten on lines outside and air fresh, as were the carpets. After months with the house shut against winter's chill, the accumulated mustiness from candles, lamps, and fireplaces was being dispelled, replaced with the soft breezes of Spring that wafted in the scents of the first blossoms in the gardens, fresh-springing grass and leaves, the twitter of birds, and the soft cries from the nearest pens where sheep were lambing.

Along with the first wasps of Spring, which Lewrie spent time to swat or shoo before opening the letter from Sophie, their former ward, and his old First Lieutenant aboard HMS Proteus and HMS Savage.

'Yes!' Caroline shouted in triumph. 'Alan, my brother is to be wed… The first banns were published last Sunday! Oh, how grand!'

'And good for him, at last,' Lewrie heartily agreed. 'When do we expect the wedding, and where?'

'What a splendid match!' Caroline further enthused before giving him the details. 'Uhm… at the Trencher family's home parish, in High Wycombe,'

'Not so very far,' Lewrie replied, more intent on the Langlies' letter. 'Didn't know the Trenchers were landed. Still… rich as he is, I'm sure her father's found some 'skint' lord with a large parcel that ain't entailed, and willing t'sell up t'settle his debts.'

England was crawling with 'new-made men' of Trade and Industry, men risen from the middling classes who aspired to emulate the titled and long-standing landowners, with country estates and acres of their own without renting. The law of entail, though, awarded the inheritance of the income that land generated, not the land itself, to eldest sons, who could not dispose of it; nor could their sons. It was only the grandsons of the heirs who could sell off land, but a new deed of settlement could stave off that shocking event to that heir's grandson for another three generations, and it was a rare thing to see land be sold outright.

'Uhm… perhaps some former commons land, taken 'tween deeds of settlement, under an Enclosure Act,' Caroline, ever practical-minded, idly commented as she squirmed excitedly in her chair. 'Oh! The first Saturday after Easter! The boys can be home and attend with us! A suitable wedding present, though… over Christmas, Theodora told me her paraphernalia is quite extensive already, hmm… '

Beds, linens, plate, and a thousand pounds per annum, to boot, Lewrie idly thought, imagining that the lovely and charming Theodora Trencher might fetch along her own coach-and-four, thoroughbred saddle horses, a likely entry in the Ascot and the Derby, and a townhouse of her own in London. Lucky bugger, that Burgess, he told himself.

'Good God!' Lewrie exclaimed after scanning the first page of Sophie's letter. 'Sophie… she and Langlie have just come back from France! From Paris, and her old lands in Normandy. Them and Langlie's parents, both!'

'From Paris?' Caroline gawped. 'And they didn't lop off their heads? What risks they took!'

Lewrie had rescued Sophie, her mother, and her brother from Toulon before the besieged forces of the First Coalition had evacuated; the poor girl had been, for a brief time, the Vicomtesse Sophie, pitiful 'meat' for the guillotine and the murderous wrath of the Jacobin revolutionaries who were red-eyed-mad for eliminating every 'aristo' family, root and branch, and anything that smacked of nobility. Such revolutionary sentiment and old grudges, Lewrie imagined, still held sway.

'Surely not t'get her lands back,' Lewrie said, reading on. 'I doubt… aha. Damme if she don't say they had a grand time, a proper honeymoon month. Evidently, they took her for an English girl who-'

'Would that not be risk enough?' Caroline quipped.

'… who could speak fluent French. As Missuz Langlie, with an English husband, they hardly had a spot o' bother. Saw all the sights in Paris… ate well, attended balls and levees, all sorts of things. Hmm Lewrie said, reading off salient points.